


your world and mine

by kittyspring



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Drugs, F/M, Gang Wars, Gun fights, Mob boss beetlejuice, POV First Person, Sex, Smoking, Torture, background OCs - Freeform, unknown area
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28578015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyspring/pseuds/kittyspring
Summary: Lydia Deetz is a by product of her environment. A working girl un able to make a saving. Limited options living wise, career wise. She hates her world till a figure from her past shows up out of the blue with a new fancy offer. She begins working as a secretary, unknowing to a high end mob boss. Entering the risky world of murder and territory take over, blindly. Will she survive her choices or suffer a grim fate.
Relationships: Beetlejuice/Lydia Deetz
Kudos: 11





	your world and mine

The names Lydia Deetz. 22 year old bar waitress. Gag. But what else can I be in this shit hole. This towns a dead end and if you're born and raised here you end up a dead end. It's hard to get out of this dirty town. But I'm working on it. It help if I wasn't living pay check to pay check. Barely able to keep up with my bills and pay for food. Waitresses get the shaft. Not like I could of gone to school for some fancy smancy diploma. Did have the money. 

I grew up poor like everyone else. I use to live in a shittier apartment then I do now. The place reeked of Tabaco and piss.. Falling apart everywhere, it was only a matter of when it would fall down. I lived with my dad and my step mom. My real mom split, so he says. I think she ran away from him. Far away from all his bullshit. Maybe there was another reason. He remarried pretty quick anyway. Lost our house and moved in with her after the wedding. Everyday they fight. Yelling about this and that. Till it ended in the bedroom then wed have dinner and it start all over again. It made me sick, I hated coming home from school. Hated being at school. There were these three girls that fucking hated everyone. They use to beat the shit out of me. I had to learn to fight back pretty quick. Learned how to throw a good punch, where to hit when I wanted to make someone puke.

Not like my dad cared. No one cared, that's the things about this town. If you dont look out for yourself no one will. Can't depend on anyone. I hated that apartment. Hearing all the shit going on, the walls were thin in that place. There was one thing I didnt mind though. One day when I was coming home from school I remember dragging my feet up the endless stairs. Holding my torn bag over my shoulder. There was this odd smell in the hall. Smelt like Tabaco but harsher. More musky. I stopped to smell the air. There was this man on my stairs. The set that lead to my hall where my apartment was. He was a big man, thick everywhere. He had these snazzy looking shoes which I thought was weird for someone in torn pants. He had suspenders on, holding the trashed cloth up. A white shirt sat on his shoulders with the sleeves rolled up. He looked like he was trying to be classy but didn't have the wardrobe for it. His brown hair was brushed back. But it stuck up like he had been shocked. Like those characters from cartoons when they stick their hand in a socket. Hmm maybe not so on end but definitely un tamed. He stared out with dull green eyes, hooded from how exhausted he was. He sat their smoking a brown stick. I didnt know was a cigar at the time. He breathed out a grey cloud at me and I tried not to cough. He didnt say anything to me. Just smoked while watching me. I went to walk passed him. Making my way to the top. I heard banging coming from my apartment that day. Hearing my dad and step mom fighting.

Throwing shit and screaming through the hall. Instead of going over I walked back down a few steps. Plopping down beside the man. Staring at the wall while the sounds of the building filled my ears. I did that everyday. Coming home from school and sitting on the same set as the man. Inhaling the second hand smoke from his cigars. We didnt speak not once. No hellos or goodbyes. He just sat there doing his thing and I waited for him to leave before heading up to my own door. I did notice somethings, he lived in the level under us. A woman would scream on his floor about ungrateful sons and dead beats. Sometimes cursing the name Lawrence. Every time he would grunt or maybe it was a growl. It was the only time I heard his voice. But I couldn't make out the tone. This went on for most of my schooling. From elementary to middle school to high school. He was there till one day he wasn't. It rained that day I remember. I was soaked, my jeans weighing me down like stones on the floor. I stopped at our stairs but he was no where. No ash on the ground to tell if he had been there earlier. So I went home. Laid in bed and tried to block out the noise. He didn't show up the next day either. Whatever life goes on. 

I don't live in that shit heap anymore. Now I live across the street from a crack house and down the block from a rehab. The rents shit for the small place. No bedroom just a futon a tv and a double entrance way kitchen. So stupid. And of course a bathrooms beside the front door. Like yes come in and hear my guests shit as a welcoming. Not like anyone comes over anyway. I don't know anyone, dont trust anyone. Not like I'm home that often. I work my ass off. From morning to late evening. Taking shit at my sexist job. I say that cause the uniform is super reveling. Cause we cater to the male eye, like a form of hooters. Short skirts and low tops. 

Showing off our underwear and everything, might as well be a strip club. Only good thing is we have a policy, touch the girls and they can and will break your arm. I like that rule and have broken a mans arm. Gone to court and got off scot free cause it clearly says everywhere in the fucking place. Also sexual harassments and self defense. I work the shifts no one else will. So I'm always stuck walking home at night. Cant go out the front door cause it'll set off the alarm when I lock up. Gotta go out the back in the alley. And there's always something shady going on. People down on their luck and doing anything for a fix. Anything. Homeless passed out by the dumpster. Or the odd jack ass who tries to grab me. Again had to learn how to fight, defend myself. How to use someone's height against them and how to really dig in with my keys. 

Sigh just like everyone else My dream is for better days. Days I don't have to fear walking down the street. Days there's not druggies tweaking everywhere. Days I'm not working as a borderline stripper without the dough they cash in. Days I'm not so fuckin depressed. But non of that is realistic here. In the town of new hope. Poorly named when it should be no hope. Augh one day I'm gonna leave this shit heap. Get a car and just drive. Live in it if I have to and just drive around. Looking for something better then this. There has to be more then this right. Sometimes it feels like leaving is just a fairy tail. Like I'm stuck here with all these up coming bills. Having a hard time saving with my low wage and barely any tips. To feisty they say. But I think customers who can give tips don't cause they're stingy. 

Man my smoke breaks are suppose to help. But this just made shit feel worse. Guess it's cause I'm thinking to much again. I do that. Not much else to do really. So here's the end of my stick. I'm at the bud now I gotta flick it. No one cares about littering here. The streets are all ready garbage. I walk into the small dinner. Rolling on the floor, cause yes it's a roller-skate dinner. And you think my pay would be higher for that but it's not. I think it's lower. Stuck here again, working a closer. I swear if we stay open any later I might have to bring a bat with me everywhere I go. 

This place is a dump, it's not clean. Grimy with age that no one has the effort to wash away. Knowing it just happen again so what's the point. The tables are the only thing really clean, even the seats are torn and trashy. I hate it here. Rolling about like some preppy school girl from a flick. Complete with the pony tail and giggly smile I have to wear. Setting down plates for pervy guys and celebrating when they eat. Augh gage me. Is what I say when I'm finally away from the customers. No one comments. No one has that workers solidarity where your chummy with your co workers cause you all work a shit job. None of that here. Just a bunch of nobodies trying to get to the punch out clock. "Oh fuck" one of them says I think its Lana the brunette who told me my bangs were trashy then went to cut hers the same way. Saying it was different which she's right. She looks awful with bangs. 

I roll over to the window from the kitchen. Staring out at the front door a group of men walked in. A bunch of fat cats. They were all dressed way to fancy for the diner. Three piece suits of brown and black. Hats like some big shots. Couldn't tell what their shoes were, bet they were out of my price range. Not like I'm shoe shopping. "Whoo rich men, I call dibs. Gonna get me a sugar daddy" Rachel said from the back. She puffed out her pink lips and pushed up her rather large books. She fluffed out her blond pony tail. Wheeling herself out the swinging door. "What a bitch just calls the table full of rich looking guys. They aren't even hot" Lana complained. I roll my eyes not caring. If its her dream to have a man buy her everything for sex why not. Loves dead anyways, might as well get something out of it. Dough, experience, an adventure. The chance to ride good dick. 

I watched the men sit down. Lana was right they weren't hot. They were old and murderous looking. Worn and annoyed. I wonder if that's how I look. Bags under my eyes, a dead fish stare. Low lids like it's to much work to keep them open. Except that one. The one on the end of the booth. He looked rather satisfied. With his permanent grin creating dimples on his face. Wrinkles of years of smiling. Which is odd in this town. Even his large eyes had wrinkles around them from his smiling. His ever so big green eyes. Wow those are bright, I've never seen someone so bright before. His hair was dyed green and splayed out ever where like, like. Hang on. "Lawrence" I called out rather loudly. The man turned his head and I quickly ducked from the window. First off shit I was almost seen. Second was that actually Lawrence. The man from the stairs. There's no fucking way. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you" Lana grunted at me. Fuck off lady I'm having a moment. I slowly stood up, peeking my head up the window. I looked out, seeing him staring at the hole in the wall. I bounced back down. Shit he saw me. Why does it matter. There's no way it could be that guy and I don't even know if Lawrence is his name. He's probably just staring cause hello crazy lady screaming names back here. I hope they leave before blondies shift is over so I don't have to take over her customers. How embarrassing. 

Little miss sugar baby skated in as I stood up away from the window. She was all smiles. "Eeee the one with the large nose said he thought I was cute. Then he patted my ass. And I so let him know I enjoyed it with a little ah" she opened her mouth wide in an 'o'. "Slut" Lana teased, they both laughed. I'll never understand girlships. I'm not great with friends or people. Ironic. I went about to help the cook clean up. Just for something to do while I waited for the punch out clock. Lana left after her gossip session with blondie. Leaving just the two of us. I cant help looking out the window with her at the group. She was analyzing hot guys I'm trying to figure shit out. The more I look at him the more he looked like the man on the stairs. 

A little older, a lot more jolly. Dyed hair and a class he tried so hard to copy. He had a suit now instead of just a white shirt and torn pants. A three button black and white stripped suit. With a matching button up underneath. And I swear his tie was stripped. It was weird, odd. Really out there especially compared to his dinning buddies. Who all had bland colored suits on and hats to express how well off they are. Scowling like dead business men. But he smiled, laughed and sat more casual then the other stiffs. He was odd. Captivating. 

"Hey that guy at the end of the counter there is raising his mug at you" blondie told me. I forgot her name. I looked over to the counter area we had, lined with stoles. At the end sat a man, dirty like all the others. Face pale and sunken. He's been here since I started my shift. Hasn't he had enough coffee yet. I rolled to the swinging door, pushing it open and rolling out to the man. I tried not to look out at the group of men. Focusing on grabbing the pot even if I felt eyes on me. I moved over to the caffeine addict. Moving to pour into his mug but the asshole moved it. Making me spill on the counter. I clenched my teeth, trying not to freak out. I looked up to collect myself. "My bad sir" I turned to put the pot back. Tossing it a little hard back in its place. I grabbed a rag we had for this occasion. It happens a lot cause it forces us to lean over a little. Giving just the prefect view of our already reveling cloths. 

I stood up as tall as I could. Wiping up the spill. He looked a little disappointed, good. "Beetlejuice, quit staring at the hussies" one of the men spoke. I couldn't help looking up, seeing the stripped man look away from me. "We should of just had this meeting in a strip club like usual" another said. The stripped man rolled his eyes "Ya an risk mister goody, goody huntin us down. Lets be real 'ere ya haven' been ta discreet. An it puts all of us at risk. Now Frizzo my man I got a business ta take care of. If ya gonna keep slippin like this heh I worry bout ya" he spoke. His voice was so gravely but not strained. Just deep, loud. He sounded so two faced with his words. Like he was lying about something. He looked back at me, smiling rather lopsidedly. I looked away, it was kind a hard wen all I wanted to do was stare at him till his face stopped being familiar. I tossed the napkins in the garbage. Ignoring the asshole who made me spill coffee and rolling back into the kitchen. 

The men left after awhile. Thanking Rachel for serving them. As gentle men do. She pouted about not getting a single number. She left like she was suppose to do with Lana but wanted to hang around the guys. She won't get paid over time, the managers not that nice. Just me and the cook for two hours. I don't mind. He doesn't talk, just listens to his sports on his portable radio. Grunting ever now and again. I cleaned up. Mopped the floor. Washed the counter properly. Rang the caffeine addict up. But my minds on the stripped guy. I can't get him out of my thoughts. Was he the guy from the stairs. I remember that man having smooth cheeks. He had a wrinkled forehead from how he frowned his brows all the time. He looked just as dead as the rest of the town. Smoking away his troubles. Maybe they were related. I wish I could stop thinking about it. 

The cook left with thirty minutes left on our clock. Whatever boss isn't here and I don't want last minute stragglers. I locked up after him. Setting the alarm system then turning out the lights to the front. I went out the back, that door always locked on it's self. The key was lost long before I started working. As soon as I stepped out I noticed the air was different. An odd odor floated around. A familiar stench of Cuban cigars. I shook my head of the thought. Lots of people smoke, cigarettes, cigars, weed, crack, anything they can. There was a figure up ahead. A tall skinny shadow of a man. Great bet it's coffee boy. I prepared myself for a fight. 

When I walked out of the alley I noticed someone else standing in front of the book shop beside the dinner. He leaned against the place, smoking a cigar. Breathing out grey smoke. He looked over at me. His green eyes seeming to glow in the darkness. He smiled at me I know from the gleam on his teeth. I didnt have time to decide what I wanted to do as a pair of arms grabbed me. I threw my ass back, winding the man into letting go. I punched his face then elbowed him to mak him back away. Then turned on my heels, sending out a kic and smashing his face against teh brick wall. He fell to the ground groaning in pain. "Enjoy the show asshole" I told him. Taking steps to walk away. 

"Whow hand on Lydia" the smoker called out to me. I jumped, how did he know my name. I turned around, bringing my hands up in case he tried anything. But he just raised his palm open. "Relax killer" he flicked his bud off somewhere. He looked me over making me uneasy. "Ya grew up doll face, got yerself a nice pair of tits an legs" seriously thats what he says to me. Pervs everywhere I swear. I roll my eyes. Cause seriously who wouldn't. "I'm leaving" I don't know why I told him instead of just walking away. "Ey now don' ya remember me" he asked. I stopped, cause I do. Sort of. "Come grab a coffee with me. Be very public, lots o' witnesses" he spoke so odd. Not his speech pattern lots of people talk like that around here. But his words. What an odd choice. I turned to look at him. Skeptically as he smiled wide at me. 

So I fallowed him. Not far a few blocks over to Mack's coffee house. A small little joint with the worst coffee I've ever tasted. They play on the whole 24/7 thing. We sat at a booth by the door. Suspicious. Though I'm always suspicious. He smiled as the waitress set down two cups of coffee. Ya I'm not drinking this. Even the smell made me want to gag. Thanks Mack jr. "What do you want" I asked him. Ya I was rude about it. I don't know this man plus I'm tired I've worked a double and instead of going home to sleep I'm here. "Would ya relax, ya so up tight. Cant a guy jus ask an ol friend out for some coffee" his words they were crafty. Like he was playing a role to catch something. 

"How do you know my name" I don't play games. His smile fell as he looked down at his cup. "How do you know mine. No one's called me Lawrence since my ma died. Ya caught me off guard an that's a hard thin ta do.... so I heard a man yell it an every time ya would snarl" shit he really is the man from the stairs. I looked down at his lapel, the clean pressed suit he wore. His dashing tie. But he was still scrappy. He still had the dusty beard except it was patchy with green and browns. He chuckled I guess I looked surprised. "Why are you green" I sucked in air through my teeth. Idiot you don't ask people why they're green. "I mean-" he held up his hand to me. "I get it, I get asked it a lot. But I'll tell ya the real answer. Copper" what. How the fuck does that make any scenes. "Copper" I repeated. He just nodded. Whatever I bet he just bleached and dyed it. So he's a jokester. 

"Goes with my eyes" he fluttered his eyelashes to elevate the point. I admit I chuckled. It was kind a funny. "Ya gotta nice smile" he complemented. Why did it make me smile more. Normally Id frown and insult someone for say that. But the way he phrased it, made me blush a little. I could feel the tingling in my cheeks. "Yers ain't half bad either" I told him. And it's true. People don't smile here but he does. And he does it uncontrolled, in any way he wants. He was smiling now, showing me his teeth. Grimy and yellow like every sleez ball in town. A little uneven but it wasn't an eye sore like how guys normally smile at me. "How ya doin Lyds" he asked. Thats difficult question to answer. "Same as any nobody in this town. Living in a dirty joint, working a shitty job. Living pay check to paycheck. Knowing if you quit smoking you'd have some extra cash but unable to break the habit" he laughed. I'm telling him my pathetic life and he's laughing. "I see you made it big. Mister costume suit and after hours business meetings" I rolled my eyes. 

He loved his jacket to emphasize the fact that he wore a snazzy suit. Guess he's proud of the custom job. "Heh an mom said I couldn' amount ta anythin. Whelp hope she's rotten in hell bein force feed the devils mayonnaise" what the fuck. I laughed so loud, cause I was not expecting that. I covered my mouth to stop myself. But he didn't seem offended he actually smiled. "Oh my god" I breathed out. "Ya know think I met ya on purpose" he started talking again. "Oh is that so" I asked still reeling on devils mayonnaise. "Yah I lost my secretary recently. She uh quit. How'd ya like a job workin beside my office. I bet ya it pays more then ya crummy waitress job. Though if ya'd prefer that dress I won't be offended" he gestured to my open coat. Where my low cut shirt was falling. I covered up. Crossing the folds over myself. 

A job. I better one. With a better pay, better states. Secretary looks better then waitress on a resume. Like I can do more then just wait tables. But am I up for such a drastic change. I looked at him. He was waiting for my answer. Staring almost knowingly. It kind a made me wanna say no but should I throw this opportunity away just cause he figures I'll say yes. Why wouldn't I say yes. The experience would be good for me. Where would I get a chance like this again. "When would I start" his smile grew, almost like it could split his face.


End file.
